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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25456864">It would be so good to be with you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietwandering/pseuds/quietwandering'>quietwandering</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Electronic (UK Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Minor Violence, time for johnny to be a big sad again</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:48:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,262</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25456864</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietwandering/pseuds/quietwandering</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>And every time I see your face<br/>I feel out of place<br/>It's so easy, why are you leaving?<br/>Is it just because I've grown afraid of you?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bernard Sumner/Johnny Marr, Johnny Marr/Morrissey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It would be so good to be with you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well, I said I'd finish posting my Chris/Neil first, but here we are with lots of big sad Johnny feels. I apologize. </p><p>Please note Johnny/Moz are only implied/referenced here. Set about 1991/1992. </p><p>Title is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3xUtpRYMS0">Some Distant Memory</a> by Electronic</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>We were drunk, but that wasn’t a good excuse anymore, really. We were always drunk. Bernard with his Pernod, me with my tequila sunrises. That didn’t change the fact that we were a tornado of bad ideas at any given time, and that, right now, we were doing something we’d probably regret in the morning - maybe even sooner than that. Bernard had kissed me, and I hadn’t stopped him. </p><p>That’s how things always went with Bernard and I though. I’d stand idly by while he went on the warpath and laid waste to whatever stood in his way. This time it was me. I held onto the back of his neck, let his tongue press into me, and I moaned when he bit at my bottom lip. Then Bernard shoved me back with enough force that I hit the floor, my ass stinging from the impact. “You taste like shit, mate. Fuckin’ disgusting.” </p><p>Right. This had been a joke. Bernard’s idea of a joke anyways. I rubbed at my face tiredly and pulled myself up from the floor, holding onto the wall for support. Why did I even need to come by his room in the first place? I couldn’t remember. It was probably some riff I wanted to show him, but it was long gone now. </p><p>I hobbled to the bathroom, ignored Bernard putting on the telly, and took a much needed piss. I wasn’t drunk enough that I needed to throw up so that was a plus. Turning to the sink, I stared at myself for a long time. It only amplified the voices in my mind screaming that I was the world’s single biggest fuck up so I splashed my face with some cool water and brushed my teeth with Bernard’s toothbrush. </p><p>I came back out to see that Bernard had taken his clothes off. That wasn’t entirely unusual in itself. Bernard had little to no shame and seemed to think just about everyone should see his dick at least once. So I didn't let the sudden nudity bother me too much. Just another day really.</p><p>I walked around him to sit on the hotel bed. My fags were a little bent from being in my back pocket all day, but I couldn’t be fucked to go buy new ones this late at night - or was it early in the morning? Whatever. They didn’t make me feel any better anyways. Just made me jittery, like I had too much energy. Angie had been begging me to stop since the kids were born. Maybe she was right. </p><p>A hard slap on the side of my face had me looking up at Bernard in confusion, near dropping my cigarette on the bed. “What the fuck was that for?” My voice was unusually strained, and I cleared my throat. “That fuckin’ hurt.”</p><p>“I was tellin’ you something profound, and you weren’t listenin’,” Bernard argued, and I shrugged in answer. Bernard always thought he was talking about something interesting. I stubbed my cigarette out in the ashtray nearby and looked at him expectantly, waiting for whatever it was he had to tell me. “We’re gonna shag. The two of us. I think it’ll do us some good.” </p><p>“I’m not gonna bloody shag you, Barney. Piss off,” I said, tired. I pushed up from the bed to head back to my own room, but Bernard shoved me again and I had to stop myself from swinging back. “I said <em> piss off</em>, mate. Stop fuckin’ around. I’m not in the fuckin’ mood for all this.” </p><p>“My dick not good enough for you? ‘S that it, Johnny? You’ll shag that miserable cunt for years, but you won’t fuckin’ look at me twice?” Bernard had shoved himself into my face, and I was uncomfortably backed against the wall. I felt my hands start to clench up, but I didn’t really want to hit him. We were just drunk. That’s all this was. “Best mates, aren’t we? Closer than close, us two. You won’t bloody look at me though - and you won’t fuckin’ stop thinkin’ of him anytime we’re together.”</p><p>“Moz and I weren’t like that - we weren’t together that way.” I was cut off as Bernard’s fist slammed into the side of my face with a sickening crack. I crumbled right away, sunk straight to the ground like a deflated balloon, and gasped as Bernard landed a hard kick into my thigh. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth and onto the floor. It probably wasn't the first time someone had bled onto this carpet, probably wouldn't be the last time, either.  </p><p>“Don’t give me that press friendly fuckin' <em>bullshit</em>, Johnny. I’m fuckin’ over being lied to about it all. If there’s one bloody person you can be honest with it’s supposed to <em> me</em>,” Bernard screamed, his face alarmingly red. I shoved at him weakly and pulled my knees to my chest. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t anymore. There were just no tears left in me. </p><p>Bernard pulled me up and over to the bed by my arm. It wasn’t hard. I was still struggling to keep weight on. I laid down, shivering, and felt Bernard spoon up behind me. A wordless apology, a silent sorry - it was the best Bernard could do sometimes. I turned so that I could wrap my arms around him and hide my face into his shoulder. He smelled like cheap hotel soap and sour beer. I wanted to drown myself in it. </p><p>“I didn’t <em> mean </em> for it to be like that with him,” I whispered as I began to calm down. Bernard’s fingers were in my hair, rubbing small circles into my scalp. It was so much easier to not talk about this, to pretend it never happened. If I thought about it too long I’d just fall apart again. “I...I don’t know what went wrong.”</p><p>Bernard’s lips were on mine, and I kissed him back. He wiped the blood off my chin with his thumb, and I turned to suck it clean. We laid there in silence, the telly on mute in the background. I wanted another cigarette, but it wouldn’t help. Nothing ever helped me forget about him. There wasn’t a drug, a pill, or a bottle of whiskey that had even come close to letting me have some peace of mind. </p><p>I just wanted him back. I wanted to call him, tell him I’d fucked up, and that I’d see him tomorrow - that we could start all over. I wanted to make him laugh again when it was too early in the morning and he was frustrated at having to be driven to another interview. I wanted to come up behind him, wrap my arms around him, and sway us along to <em> Because the Night </em> again. I wanted his tongue in my mouth again as I fucked him out on the balcony of a hotel room in California. </p><p>But those were all just distant memories now, weren't they? I didn’t know if I’d ever see his face again outside of a magazine. He was always busy telling the world at large how he felt about me while I struggled to speak a single word about us without it sounding bitter. “<em>Yes... that's not a hard one. I loved and love Johnny Marr</em>.” Fuck. I hated myself. I hated what we had become. </p><p>I clung tighter to Bernard and rolled him on top of me. He’d nearly fallen asleep, but he blinked his eyes back open after a minute. They were just as blue as Moz’s, with a slight tinge of gray. I didn't know how that made me feel most times - right now it just pissed me off. “Fuck me. Do it - I want you to,” I whispered, and Bernard squinted at me. I shook him in frustration. “Wake the fuck up, Barney. I said I want you to fuck me, c’mon.” </p><p>Bernard shrugged and sat himself up. I nearly pulled him back down, but I knew he had to go get the stuff from his bag. I shoved my jeans down a little and sucked a few of my fingers to get them wet. It had been a while, and it hurt when I pressed them inside of myself, but I gritted my jaw and forced them in, made myself relax around them. </p><p>“You should let me -”</p><p>“No,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut. I wasn’t ready for this to be intimate, to mean something. I just wanted to be fucked, wanted to lose myself for a little while. Bernard climbed back onto the bed beside me, tried to kiss me, but I turned away from him. His hand rested on my chest instead, trailed his fingers across my oversized jumper.  </p><p>I climbed into his lap when I felt ready enough. Bernard held my hips in one hand and slid a condom on himself with the other. He slicked himself up too much for my liking, but I pushed down onto him anyways - dug my nails into his shoulder as the pain shot up my spine. My mouth still tasted like iron, and I flicked my tongue along the split in my lip, shivering when some of the dried blood flaked off. This is what I needed. This is what I <em>deserved</em>. </p><p>Bernard fucked lazily while I tried to rush us. I still wouldn’t let him kiss me so he busied himself with sucking bruises down my neck. I liked that a lot. I wanted him to mark me where the whole world could see it. I’d take a picture to send to Angie and call her afterward to hear how much that turned her on. </p><p>“I wanna fuck you on your back,” Bernard whispered, and I let him shove me over. I pulled my legs up, spread them open for him, and let him push back in me. He had slicked himself up some more, slid into me like he belonged there, but he didn’t - and he never would. I didn’t think about it for now. “That good? That feel good, Johnny?” </p><p>I nodded and wrapped my legs around his hips. I wasn’t sure if I was even hard. Bernard had pulled my jeans off somewhere along the way, but I hadn’t bothered to touch myself. I just wanted him to keep fucking me. Every thrust felt like I was getting further out of my own head, and I wanted that more than anything else right now. </p><p>Bernard’s mouth finally landed on mine. He kissed roughly, making up for lost time, and I opened to the press of his tongue. I moaned when I felt him slide across that spot inside of me, felt my breathing slow down, and my back bowed up in something close to ecstasy. “Oh, fuck. Barney. Fuck me. Just <em> fuck me</em>, please,” I gasped, and Bernard’s hips moved faster - the lube was drying up some, and I could feel the friction of the condom. I stopped him from reaching for more. “Don’t fuckin’ stop. Don’t you fuckin’ <em> stop</em>.” </p><p>I grabbed at his hair, yanked him towards me, and bit into the soft skin of his shoulder. I felt him shudder, felt him moan, and I knew he was coming. I shoved him away a second later and scooted towards the edge of the bed, pulled away as he tried to reach for me. “Johnny, just fuckin’ slow down a second.” Bernard’s voice was wrecked. I liked the sound of it - low and tremulous. </p><p>“I’ve got shit to do,” I lied and found my jeans on the floor. I wasn’t hard. That was fine. I got myself dressed. Bernard tried to wrap his arms around me, but I shrugged him off. I had gotten what I’d wanted and it was likely Bernard had, too - I struggled to imagine he wanted anything other than to get his own end off. </p><p>I had made it to the door when I felt him pin me. I stood there, clutching the door knob, and closed my eyes. Bernard pressed a kiss into my neck, right over the bruise he had left on me, and sighed. “Johnny. Don’t leave. I’m askin’ you to not bloody leave. I want you to stay.” I shook my head. I couldn’t believe that. Moz had wanted me gone, Chrissie had wanted me gone. Andy probably hated me - I’d abandoned him, too. Angie had almost left me several times over at this point. “Come back to bed. Come lie down. C’mon.” </p><p>I didn’t fight him as he picked me up by the waist and carried me over to the bed again. I wished I could have another drink, but I wasn’t about to touch one of those bloody Pernods. Bernard pulled the blankets around us and held onto me like he really did care about me. I shut my eyes and let myself believe that for a while, just as an experiment - it'd feel so nice, wouldn't it? To be wanted for once. “‘M tired,” I whispered after a minute, and Bernard got up to turn the lights off. </p><p>“That better?” I nodded and was glad to feel him crawl back into the bed, feel his arms wrap tightly around me. “Just let me know if you need anythin’, alright?” </p><p>“No promises there,” I whispered. Bernard laughed, and I turned to press my face into his chest. For just a brief moment, I didn’t hear that haunting voice in the back of my mind - and I fell asleep to the lull of Bernard’s soft breath against my ear.</p>
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